Solona 13 - The Day You Came to Me
by RoboticHawk
Summary: Zevran Arainai's never known his birthday. Who would bother to remember such a thing for just another common whoreson?
1. The Crows Will Never Fly Back Home

"Warden, did we not agree to simply go our separate ways?"

Solona grinned, kicking a thug's torso she'd ripped apart out of her way. Ignacio crawled away from her on his ass, pushing with his feet while his arm desperately clutched at the stump where his elbow used to be. Thick blood matted the carpet of the room and with careful measured steps she walked around the bloody trail, swinging her summoned blade in a flurry, splattering the clinging drops of blood onto the walls and flooring.

It was purely for show, as she had no need to sheathe a magical sword she had summoned. But it would not hurt to intimidate this man.

"Greetings, Master Ignacio." Solona smiled, her golden blade humming a sweet note as she casually pressed it against his throat.

"Warden, this is most unfortunate," the man croaked, keeping very, very still.

"Is it? I'm rather glad I found you again today. See, I forgot to ask you something yesterday."

"Then ask, Warden." He coughed, spitting up blood to clear his words.

How far she's come, Solona thought. To obliterate a small division of assassins by herself, mutilating them in the process then torturing the master assassin with a smile never slipping from her lips. Once, she was blissfully ignorant of the realities of this world, coddled by invisible chains of the Circle.

"Zevran," she paused. How could she phrase this…?

"…Zevran? That whoreson sent to kill you? That's what this is about?" The man sputtered and Solona drove her pommel into his temple, smashing him into the wall.

"Yes, _Zevran._ The handsome elf that you threatened to inform the Crows of yesterday," she smiled, baring her teeth. The man lay trembling, unable to even pull himself up to lean against the wall. She pressed down, crouching low.

"I've rather grown fond of him, Master Ignacio. And when you spoke to him so – well, here we are."

"He is… dead, as far as I am aware. And will remain so, I suspect," he wheezed.

"But there is no guarantee you won't be… _informed_ otherwise. Especially if you ever need something from either me or him. Is it not prudent to eliminate the possibility completely?"

"You would… do… this? You… would kill… a master of Antivan Crow… on an off chance I might… inform them of… your whoreson? Do you… understand… the magnitude… of the… actions you… are taking right now?"

"I do." Solona watched him, pathetic lump of meat shivering under her gaze. She pressed her summoned blade against his throat. Dewy drops of blood beaded from his parted flesh, spilling over to trail down to his chest.

"You are… turning an entire… cell… against yourself! While another has… a contract… on your life. You may even… turn… the entire house against you! You will… never… survive… All, for… some nobody who was… sent to kill you… worth not even the dirt… on your boots…"

 _"Zevran,_ is worth protecting."

"You are… more insane… and more world-wise… than I have given you… credit for. Not just… any young innocent girl… after all, hmm?"

"Ha! No, not quite. Tortures in Fort Drakon taught me many, many things. I myself was unaware of just how far my… determination, shall we say? could take me."

"If so… then why… am I still breathing?"

"I had a question, remember? Tell me, where do the Crows purchase their young aspiring assassins?"

"You ask… where we… bought that whoreson? As if… I would know…"

"Master Ignacio. I will cut off all your remaining limbs, heal your wounds, and ship you to Antiva City in a box. Do people hold grudges against master assassins?"

"…there's multiple whorehouses… spread out… but in the Antiva City… most come from the… Rosy Gems…"

"Much obliged, Master Ignacio. Rest well."

Her blade sunk into his carotid, a fountain of crimson blood spurting onto the walls. Soon her sword dissipated as she released the spell and stood, looking around at the small massacre.

She was getting rather proficient at this whole investigating thing.


	2. A Special Day

Solona looked up from the arcane book she was reading, watching Zevran's roll of sheets shuffling across the floor.

"Zev, I realize you came back from Antiva only two days ago, but if you get any closer to the hearth you're going to catch fire. I'd rather not have to cast Ice Grasp on you."

Zevran peeked out from the mound of blankets, his angular face poking out of the thick bundle of shapeless lump. Despite her warning, he wiggled even closer to the fire.

"If I remember right, _you_ did catch fire once. Lot of flailing, running in circles, ending with some spectacular ice spells from both Wynne and Morrigan, as I recall."

Solona flushed crimson and turned her head away.

"Never happened." She mumbled.

"Well, if my Warden says it didn't happen, then I must believe my Warden never went running in circle with her hair on fire. The days after we spent teasing her must have been purely my imagination, no?"

Solona buried her face in blankets and groaned.

"Ah, my dear Warden. Shall I call for a bucket of water?"

"For when we catch fire from the hot sex we'll be having, Zev?"

"Of course, what else could it possibly be for? Catching fire from sitting too close to the hearth?" He replied, eyes dancing with laughter.

"It never-"

"First Warden. May I intrude?"

Solona paused as quiet knocks rapped against her door. Barkspawn, who she was leaning against nearby the fireplace, yawned and flicked his ear but otherwise did not stir. Safe, then.

Zevran wrapped himself in blankets again, having shucked them for clear access to his daggers. After checking Barkspawn's response, his hands burrowed back underneath the sheets. Solona smiled to herself, amused.

"Come on in, Varel." She called, raising her voice to be heard. Soon, her heavy wooden door creaked open and the elder man with greying hair entered with a puff of chilly winter air. She placed her hand on the page she was on, closed the cover slightly and looked up.

He looked down, noting her soft blankets and pillows wrapped around her and Barkspawn, a cup of honeyed citron tea resting by her side, and warm fire dancing in the hearth while she and her Barkspawn snuggled right by it. He frowned when he saw the small lump under the blanket and Solona swallowed her sigh. The stout man plainly disapproved of her willy assassin who'd come back from Antiva. She couldn't very well fault him for being cautious of the infamous assassin, but… Maker, it pained her to see that flash of distrust in his eyes.

"You look mighty comfortable," he grumbled.

"Oh? Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice?" Zevran chuckled.

"You are welcome to join me as well, Varel. Leave seneschal's duties to Garavel, you know, who's actually seneschal now?" She smiled, patting a spot next to her on the furry rug.

"Garavel's much to learn if he's to assist you properly. Besides, no arling has ever had an arlessa _and_ a viscount. You may have made a position of viscount here for me, but it's against tradition."

"I'd have made you the arl and that would have been pertaining to the tradition, if you hadn't refused it so profusely Varel. I'm not here most of the time, and you overlook most of the ruling anyway. Just accept it already." She grinned, to which the man sighed. Steadfast, gruff yet kind, he reminded her of Irving in his younger days, and she hoped Varel looked to her with more trust than she demanded from him as his arlessa.

"A correspondence for you," he leaned down to pass her a message, without bothering to acknowledge her comment.

"Oh? From?"

"Garavel said the messenger was Antivan."

Solona felt Zevran twitch under the blankets.

"Antivan…? What… Oh!" She closed her book all the way and unrolled the tiny scroll. She read the uneven hand, following the quick scribbles.

 _I've looked into what you requested. I've tracked down the old whore Floressa from Rosy Gem. I won't tell you where, because Maker, you don't want to know. She remembers the elf, sold for a handsome fee apparently. But she didn't remember the exact date, only that it was sometime during winter._

A sigh escaped her lips. So it was truly a dead end then. Two years of following a shredded thread of almost non-existent clues, and the result was this: no living soul remembered the exact date.

"Would you like to send a response?" Varel asked, and she shook her head.

"No, thank you Varel. Arrange for twenty gold from my personal account to be sent to Gnawed Noble Tavern as payment from 'W', please."

"Will that be all?"

"Yes."

"By your order, First Warden." He saluted smartly then walked out. Her door thudded closed behind him.

"Did I hear that right? Twenty gold? Are you by chance hiring some exotic strippers? Five?"

She pushed her book to her side and drew the blanket up tighter around her neck, narrowing her eyes at Zev who had resurfaced from the land of fluffy blankets.

"Yes, Zev. This _was_ worth the extravagant sum."

He threw her a look that said, _if you say so_.

"I understand. Anybody would want to keep exotic strippers to themselves. Or is it a surprise welcome back party you've planned for me? If so, by all means, splurge on!"

"I… it was… no, I wasn't trying to hide it from you. And yes, it is about you. I just… wanted some time to think about this, before I talked to you."

Solona rustled the blankets, sitting up straight to face him. Barkspawn whined his great displeasure at the disturbance and curled up tighter.

Cool air touched her warmed skin and she shivered, until Zev came closer and pulled her into the blankets he had warmed up. She burrowed deeper, burying her face against his solid chest. She could feel his strong hands twining into her hair, brushing and toying with each lock.

"If you want time-"

"No, it'll just make it harder. I… wanted to find out something."

"Oh? Now what have piqued my beautiful Warden's interest I wonder?" Light laughter entwined in his soft voice.

"Do you remember… Floressa?"

His hands stilled in her locks for a moment and she sensed the sharp intake of breath. Then a heartbeat passed and Zevran continued to stroke her hair, keeping his breaths even.

"Ah… well now, that's an old name I did not expect to hear of again." He murmured.

"Sorry,"

"No, no. It's quite all right. I was simply surprised, my dear lady. Let's see… she was one of the whores that took care of me and others like me before I was sold to the Crows. A kind woman, as I recall. In fact, she was the fortuneteller who told me that I would not die young. It's been many years since I saw her last."

"I… tracked her down. I'm sorry I did so without telling you first."

"Tracked down? That must not have been easy. You could have simply asked whatever it is you wished to know of me and I would have answered. It would have saved you however much gold in addition to those twenty you spent to find one old whore in Antiva."

"I wanted to know when you were born," she mumbled.

His hand hesitated again, and this time Solona grasped it in her own two hands. Straddling him, she raised her head to meet his somber eyes. With a tired smile playing by his soft lips, he waited without a word. Solona shook her head.

"…I'm sorry," she whispered.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then bent down to kiss at the tail of her eye where a tiny drop of tear had gathered without her noticing.

"It is to be expected, dear Warden. I was born of a whore. No one would bother to remember which day another one came into the world." Zevran murmured, his velvet voice smooth and soothing. He patted her hair, gentle and kind.

"Zev, this is the part where I'm supposed to comfort you, not the other way around."

"Ah… do forgive me. I simply cannot help myself when I see my precious Warden distressed so."

She smiled, leaning in to press her lips against his. A light brush of teasing touch, and another soon erased those wistful looks from his eyes.

"On second thought, perhaps being comforted by a ridiculously sexy woman isn't the worst thing that could happen," he grinned.

"Flatterer,"

"I only speak the truth! You must be aware by now that I do not lie."

She looked up, narrowing her eyes at his amused smile.

"You're a natural born liar, and you're proud of it."

"Dear Warden! Why would you slander me so?"

"I remember that bet you made with Alistair about Morrigan."

"Why is it that your memory works so well with such instances, and yet does not remember the time your hair caught fire?"

"I did find out, that you were born in winter." Solona continued, entwining their fingers together. She ignored the light chuckles shaking his warm body against hers. He allowed her to change the topic with a pointed grin.

"That is quite a feat, considering no one would care for an expendable commodity such as me. Did Floressa actually remember the season I was born in?"

"She did."

"I… see."

Solona saw the careful detachment appearing in his eyes, watched the lines of his face harden as he subconsciously braced himself, the telling signs of his time spent with the Crows.

"Do you know what today's date is?" She hurried on. Zevran blinked and cocked his head at the sudden question, but as always he humored her.

"Today is Wintermarch… 27th was it? Wintermarch 27, 9:32 Dragon."

"Yes. And do you know what happened exactly two years ago?"

Zevran narrowed his eyes with amused suspicions.

"What are you planning, my devious little Warden?" He tightened his grip over her hands, shifting her closer to him.

"Two years ago… I met this one elf. Handsome, naturally." Solona started.

His eyes widened, but otherwise kept still. She swallowed and continued, nervous words spilling out.

"On 27 of Wintermarch, 9:30 Dragon, a certain Antivan Crow ambushed us on the King's Road."

"I did not realize you were keeping track of the date I tried to kill you, my dear Warden," he remarked.

"It was the day I met you. It was the day you came into my world."

"Warden…"

"It was the day you intended for me to end your life."

Zev opened his mouth, then closed. Barest tremors shook him – and his embrace tightened through the battle he fought. To crush his long-honed instincts to jest, to quip, he tried his damnedest to be _sincere_ and Solona squeezed him back.

"I will always listen to the words you swallow, the words you speak with your eyes no matter what comes out of your mouth," she vowed, fervent whispers faint in his ear.

"My Warden…" he groaned, his velveteen voice rough with the scars of his past.

"Words you speak with silence will not fail to reach me."

He buried his head in the nape of her neck, silence stretching thin, fraying at its edges through the strain. Barkspawn shuffled closer and nudged at their legs, a soft whine comforting the hurt.

"Do you promise?" He croaked, patting Barkspawn in thanks.

"I swear upon the earring you gifted me, I will always know the words you speak within."

Inch by inch, he raised his head. Eyes murky, smile gentle, he brushed his lips against her earring before sitting up straight.

 _I love you_

Then his smile twitched into something more salacious, a genuine crooked smile.

"There are worse fates than being killed by, or rather, serving the whims of some sex goddess. Shall I tell you about the fates of Taliesen's Marks?"

"I'm glad things worked out the way it did too," she grinned.

"Besides, chances were we would meet our grisly fate on the road. Eaten by darkspawn, skewered by incompetent guards with blind luck, decapitated by Loghain, squished under Shale like pigeons…"

"Zev, you launched a suicide mission. With intentions to die."

"One does not do what I do, and fear death greatly."

"You were never a nameless tool to be used and discarded. Zev, you may have the skills of a Crow, but you've flown from your old, gilded cage."

"War-"

Solona clamped her hand over his mouth, muffling his half-hearted words.

"Not done yet. Nowhere _near_ done yet," she growled and he settled, obliging.

"Zev, the reason you don't have a birthday is not because you were a nobody until you met me. It's not because you weren't important enough to have something like a birthday until you fled the Crows. You did not have a birthday, because those around you tried their best to break you."

"The day you were born, the day you first held a dagger, and the day you made your first kill. They took it away from you, so they could mold you to fit their purposes. Memories upon memories which makes up who you were, they seized it, broke it to pieces so you couldn't be whole. But even still, you were strong enough to break free of their leash."

"And Wintermarch 27, 9:30 Dragon is the day you crushed their hold over you."

Solona panted, sucking in a deep breath.

"If I may, my dear Warden?" Zev mused.

"Yes?"

"Are there other dates you're keeping track of as well?"

"Guardian 1, 9:30 Dragon: You taught me what a feet massage was that day. Bloomingtide 13, 9:30 Dragon: The first time you ever joined Alistair and I in bed, with Isabela. Harvestmere 23, 9:30 Dragon: The day you and Leliana rescued Alistair and I from the Fort Drakon. Win-"

"How did you ever manage to memorize all that?"

"My diary. You know how I don't forget what I read once? Well…"

"Ah,"

"Zev, you walked into my life two years ago on this day. And ever since, you've warmed my heart, brought smile onto my lips, and blew joy into my precarious days. I love you, Zevran Arainai, and this day will forever be precious to me. And with your permission, I'd like to show you my gratitude for allowing me into your life, again and again, especially on this day, each and every year for as long as I draw breath. Will you allow me this?"

Zevran surged forth to claim her lips. His rough hand trailed up to her neck to support her as he arched her back, crushing her against his warm body. Solona tasted his love for her on his tongue, heard his answer whispered by his caring touch.

 _Sí, mi amor, sí_

With every ounce of his being Zevran kissed her in place of a thousand words of adoration, until they were both gasping for breath, clutching at each other.

"This means I'll be attempting to bake a cake every year on this day, you realize." Solona giggled.

"Threats of poison, and it's not even midday yet. My Warden, you spoil me so."

"What can I say? I love you."

Zevran leaned up and pressed his lips to her golden ring hanging from her earlobe. A token of affection, and more. Each brush of his lips on the earring, each tender bite, every soft touch with his fingertips replacing the words beaten out of his mouth in his youth.

 _I love you_

Another kiss, then another, and another. An endless stream of wordless love, expressed in the only way he knows how.

"Zev, happy birthday," she smiled.

"I think it bears repeating: assassinating you is the luckiest thing that could have happened to me," Zevran chuckled, never ceasing his caress on her earring.

 _I love you, always_


End file.
